


Nothing Like This

by Raine_Wynd



Series: Nick's Troubles [1]
Category: Highlander: The Raven, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Families of Choice, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Immortals, M/M, Slash, Torture, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Wolfe didn't know what day it was; he just knew he was in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still playing in the sandbox with other people's toys. Woke up dreaming of this one morning; it's eaten my brain since then. Beta thanks go to Rhi and Sam, who suggested better wording and proper use of semicolons, among other things. :-) Not related to any of my previous stories.
> 
> Warnings: graphic torture and recovery; slash themes and past relationships; as well as liberal use of religion-as-magic.

Nick Wolfe didn't know what day it was; he just knew he was in trouble. Manacled to a wall and blinded, he prayed that today was the day his torturer ended his suffering. He wasn't being allowed to heal from the injuries the headhunter had inflicted; Nick's Quickening wasn't able to cope with the extent of the damage. Nick could only imagine now what the other immortal wanted to do next. Nick had fought for as long as he'd been able, believing that if he didn't survive, he'd at least die knowing he'd tried. For a moment, he remembered what the other immortal looked like: a silver-haired, geriatric, thin gentleman in golf-style polo and khaki slacks who'd stopped him to ask for directions, looking harmless. Nick knew if he survived this, he'd never make that mistake again.  
  
Imprisoned, Nick could only shudder as the sense of his kidnapper's Presence swept across his senses. He heard his torturer mutter unintelligibly as he moved – something that sounded like "They're early." The sound of a click, then something metallic sliding down rope, was followed by a sudden thud. The Quickening slammed into Nick like a grenade blast. Unable to flee, Nick could only scream around a ball gag as the essence of an ancient immortal gone insane hit him.  
  
In the midst of the agony of trying to absorb the powerful Quickening, fighting a battle for his own sanity, strong immortal presence hit Nick again. If he had breath to spare, he would've sworn; as it was, he could only focus on the battle raging through him. If the newcomer wanted his head, he was going to have to wait until this was over.

* * *

Cory growled and flung an arm out to stop Rich from entering the basement. "Stay back," he hissed.  
  
"Wha – oh, shit." Rich halted. His eyes scanned the room, seeing the lightning from the Quickening, the remote-controlled guillotine, the man they'd come to rescue manacled to a wall. In one of the hardest voices Cory had ever heard him use, Rich said, "When it's over, we need to make sure he's who he's supposed to be. Don’t take him down right away."  
  
Cory glanced at his friend and sometime partner, recognizing the voice of experience. "Go get Matthew; he'll be best for that."  
  
Rich nodded once, then turned back the way they'd come.  
  
Mouth tightening in a thin line, Cory surveyed the man on the wall. It never ceased to anger him just how cruel people could be, but this was going to stick out as one of the worst he'd personally seen. By now, Nick was supposed to be doing something fun with Cory. The knives he'd asked Nick to deliver out of Amanda's safekeeping had been mostly an excuse to meet the man, as Rich had suggested. Rich had worked for Nick at Sanctuary, and had been instrumental in setting up the meet since Amanda hadn't wanted to leave Tahiti just to retrieve Cory's knives. Then Cory had discovered that the ex-cop had connections he could exploit to get blueprints of a building Cory had earmarked as a target. That had been a week and a half ago. Now Cory barely recognized the brown-haired, confident, attractive man he'd seen on Skype.  
  
To Cory's experienced gaze, the Quickening was taking a long time to settle. He'd seen enough of them to know what it should look like when it wasn't a struggle. Combined with the strength of the immortal he'd sensed when they'd approached the farmhouse, Cory suspected that Nick was having a difficult time.  
  
He heard Matthew and Rich come down the stairs; Rich sounded worried, but Cory didn’t pay attention to the words. Rich had known Nick longer; he'd earned the right to be concerned, but Cory had spent most of his long life trusting his teacher to do the right thing. He wasn't about to stop now.  
  
Matthew immediately took charge. "Nick, you can fight this," he commanded. "You hate it when the criminals win; don't let this one take over." He kept talking, coming closer in stages, until the lightning faded and Nick appeared to have passed out from the struggle. A blindfold was over his eyes.  
  
"Nick, wake up," Matthew commanded.  
  
Cautiously, Rich stepped closer and tried to find a pulse. "He's dead. We're going to be fucked if he wakes up as someone else. He's been keeping a lot of people's secrets, thanks to Sanctuary, and he's a good guy. He doesn't deserve to overload. You know where the nearest holy spring is?"  
  
Matthew shook his head. "No time for that." He pulled a cross out from underneath his shirt and laid a hand on Nick's chest. For a moment, Matthew's face tightened as he had to figure out where to put his hand where he wouldn't cause further damage.  
  
"Blessed are the warriors who defend the borders of this Earth so that the gates of Heaven may be staffed by those who believe in the Power Above. Blessed are those who fight the powers of darkness and evil, who stand ready to serve. In this hour of need, I call upon His grace to heal his faithful servant and plead my student's case at the feet of the Gracious Lady. Please, help him against this force that would change who he is.  
  
"With Nick in this fateful hour, I place all Heaven with its power, the sun with its brightness, the snow with its whiteness –"  
  
Now Cory stepped closer and joined him in the familiar prayer, "The fire with all the strength it hath, the lightning with its rapid wrath, the winds with their swiftness along their path, the sea with its deepness, the rocks with their steepness, the earth with it starkness, all these I place, with God's almighty help and grace, between myself and the powers of darkness. Amen."  
  
"Amen," Rich echoed. He looked doubtful, but his voice had held conviction and hope. Cory reached over and touched Rich's shoulder, nodding reassurance at the younger immortal. Rich smiled briefly, but he looked as though he was already preparing to run if necessary.  
  
Abruptly, Nick glowed, lit by his own Quickening. His head came up, straining at the bonds holding him, and he shuddered violently. His face twisted in a grimace as the suicidal immortal fought to gain control, but Nick was too stubborn to let him win. After several minutes, the last bits of lightning faded away.  
  
After borrowing a knife from Cory, Matthew quickly sliced through the straps holding the ball gag in place. "Nick?"  
  
Nick swallowed past a dry throat. "That you, Matthew? You alone?"  
  
"No, Cory and Rich are here, too."  
  
"Sorry about missing the meeting," Nick said, genuinely apologetic. His voice sounded raw, nothing like it normally did, and he swallowed again before speaking. "Bastard jumped me when I left Starbucks."  
  
"We figured something happened when you didn't show," Rich said quietly. "If we let you off this wall, are you –"  
  
"Still your favorite ex-cop," Nick replied, compassion in his voice. Cory glanced at Rich; there was clearly a story he hadn't heard. "Kyree tried taking over, but he hated that prayer. It felt like you bled off something."  
  
"It was meant to," Matthew said. "We'll get you down in a few minutes, Nick."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Cory swore as he studied the contraption holding Nick. "Bastard welded him to the wall, Matthew. It's gonna hurt."  
  
Rich pulled off the blindfold covering Nick's eyes and gasped. Swallowing hard, he asked, "Nick? Can you see us?" Worry coated his voice.  
  
"No." Nick swallowed again. "They're punctured." He paused. "I provoked him into doing a bit more damage than he planned."  
  
Curse words met his declaration. Nick waited. He was naked, he'd been tortured, he'd taken a Quickening he hadn't planned on taking; he'd let the older and more experienced immortals figure out what to do.  
  
"I think you'll be happier if you're out of this for a while," Matthew suggested gently.  
  
Nick winced, remembering how he'd gotten to this part. "He drugged me while he was putting me up here. Yeah. Do whatever you need to do, Matthew." Drawing in as deep of a breath as he could, Nick waited.  
  
Matthew looked expectantly at Cory, who stepped forward and stabbed Nick expertly, killing him instantly.  
  
"Anything I can do?" Rich asked. “I’m not that good at the kind of first aid Nick needs.” He looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but studying the damage to his friend, and Cory couldn't blame him for that. Not for the first time, Cory wondered just how close Rich and Nick were.  
  
"Find Nick's sword and any other personal belongings," Matthew suggested. "Make a sweep of the upstairs. If you find anything that might identify this bastard, bring it to me, but use gloves. Then get the bag of explosives out of the SUV. We don't want anything left behind that can identify us."  
  
Rich nodded and headed upstairs at a run.  
  
Grimly, Matthew and Cory worked to free Nick. As both had expected, it was an unpleasant exercise. Between the metal manacles and the leather strapping that had bound Nick, there was a lot of ripped skin and crushed bones. In the end, Cory had to use the welding torch to cut Nick free, as his skin had grown partly over the manacles.  
  
"Any other injuries?" Matthew asked Cory when the last binding was pulled out of Nick's body.  
  
"No, but he’s gonna need a shower; there’s blood everywhere.”  
  
Matthew nodded. "Then all this –" he gestured to the room "– was just to make sure Nick couldn’t run when the bastard killed himself."  
  
Rich returned in time to hear the last part of what Matthew said. "That's just sick. What was he trying to do, win a new body?"  
  
"He's not the first or the last to try," came the dry reply from Matthew.  
  
Rich glanced over the body on the floor near the guillotine, and shook his head. "That's just seriously desperate. How the hell did he expect to get down or undo the damage he caused? Even if he managed to win, he couldn't have gotten down without help." Rich paused and studied the room. His eyes landed on a partially trashed video camera mounted on the wall. "He was counting on that. He watched us arrive. We need to make sure Nick is still Nick when we pull out that knife."  
  
Cory whistled softly; Rich was too young to know something like that. "Something you want to tell us, Rich?"  
  
"Some other time," Rich deflected, but not before the older immortals saw a flash of pain cross his face.  
  
"We need to get going," Matthew said pointedly. "Long explanations can wait, but Rich, I do want to hear a short one."  
  
"Duncan, Dark Quickening, and me in the way. If that wasn't enough, he overloaded a year later, thought he was seeing demons, and I was — you guessed it," the redheaded immortal bit off. "Now can we go?"  
  
Cory and Matthew exchanged mutually appalled looks, and Cory abruptly realized that had to be part of the reason Rich had stopped looking at the Highlander with hero worship. "Give me time to set the charges," Cory said, tactfully changing the subject.  
  
"Just don’t blow us up," Rich agreed, sounding relieved to focus on the task at hand rather than himself. "I'll get the doors for you, Matthew. We aren't finished with this bastard — I found keys to several storage units upstairs."  
  
"We'll check them out once Nick is safe," Matthew promised. "Can you move that chair — thanks, Rich." Matthew hoisted Nick into a modified fireman's carry, mindful of the knife, and waited for his other student to set the old mansion ablaze.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick groaned as he revived. He felt another immortal in the room with him, close, possibly on the same bed as him. The smell of blood was gone, and the sounds were all wrong for being in that godforsaken basement. Darkness still covered his vision. Thinking he'd escaped one hell for another, Nick struggled against the body holding him.

"Easy, Nick, easy," a man's voice cautioned. "Your eyes are going to be the last to fully heal, so we put a blindfold on you so the light from the window wouldn't hurt and you'd sleep more deeply." Strong hands held him, and Nick stilled as he felt the lean, athletic man against him. Impossibly, arousal shot through Nick and he willed it to subside, aware that as long as he must've been out, he had yet to deal with the aftereffects of taking a Quickening. Sexual need was always his first response, followed by hyperactivity. He didn't recognize the man who held him; the breadth of shoulders didn't feel familiar, and Rich tended to wear a spicy, musky cologne.

"Cory?" Nick asked, wanting the confirmation.

A short laugh met his question. "Yeah. I'd say you were happy to see me, but that's not necessarily directed at me, is it?"

Nick swallowed, remembering the Skype session and the impression he'd had of a handsome, flirtatious man. "Ask me again later," he said, surprising himself. He'd thought that Rich was the only one who could get him to consider being with another immortal again, but clearly that wasn't the case.

Cory chuckled, not sounding offended. "I'll hold you to that. Do you need anything from me right now to take the edge off?"

Nick shook his head. "No. I…"

"…wouldn't be comfortable with someone you barely know and can't see," Cory finished knowingly. Nick felt a hand clasp his in reassurance. "Offer is open anytime."

"Thanks." Nick drew in a breath, stopping himself from blurting out his surprise at Cory wanting him sexually after seeing him in that hellhole. Maybe it was just an understanding of what a Quickening was like, but even then it was more than Nick had thought to expect. Maybe Rich had been right: Cory was more than he appeared. "And thank you for the rescue. I wasn't sure anyone would find me."

"You listed Matthew as an emergency contact for your friend, Bert. He called Matthew because you'd promised to call when you had some info for him and he began to worry when you'd been out of touch for three days. I was already looking for you; Rich said you were never late for appointments. He’s rarely wrong about that sort of thing, I’ve found, and I hate it when he gets worried. Usually means I overlooked something important." A rueful chuckle followed, and the hands holding Nick released. "When I told Matthew that it looked like you never checked out of the hotel, he knew something was wrong." Cory paused. "Ready to find out if you can see?"

Nick sighed. "Might as well."

"Keep your eyes closed, then open them slowly," Cory advised as he reached behind Nick's head and untied the blindfold.

Half-afraid he wouldn't be able to see, Nick did as he was instructed.

"Can you see anything?"

"Not really. The light is fuzzy and I can't make out any shapes."

"I was afraid of that," Cory noted. "You've had to heal a lot; it's gonna be a while before you can see."

"Even with taking a Quickening?" Nick asked with surprise. “I feel like I could run a marathon right now.”

"Afraid so," Cory said. "You probably used up a lot of the energy you'd normally need to burn off, healing everything that bastard did to you. Do you want the blindfold on or off?"

"Off. I've had enough of being tied up."

"Fair enough. Matthew and Rich stayed behind in Baltimore to finish cleaning up; the immortal who kidnapped you —"

"— was a serial killer," Nick said flatly. "He didn't limit himself to just us, either."

"Matthew said you don't have to worry about accessing the bastard's memories; he and Rich found enough in the house that Matthew decided he should just toss out the rule book."

"Matthew never throws out the rule book. He loves the structure."

Cory laughed wryly. "He does when the book needs a new chapter. We're at my place in Alexandria, Virginia; my neighbors don't ask questions the way Matthew's do." Cory paused, and Nick heard him dialing a number on speakerphone.

"Yo," Rich said, sounding cheerful but tired.

"He's awake."

"Nick, sorry to leave you, but this is messy. Matthew says we'll be done in —"

"— sixteen hours, give or take, Nick," Matthew interjected. "How are you?"

"Still blind," Nick said. He hadn't expected Cory to call the other two immortals, and his estimation of the other immortal went up significantly. Then again, Rich wouldn't have left Nick in the care of someone he didn't trust implicitly.

"Give yourself time," Matthew advised. "Anything above the neck tends to heal slower. You're otherwise recovered?"

Nick sighed, aware that his teacher knew precisely what Quickenings did to him. "I’m sitting still, aren’t I?”

"Mostly," came the dry reply from Cory. "Matthew, he’s trembling, just like you said he’d be."

"I’ll be all right once I’ve eaten something,” Nick insisted, shoving aside the twinge of embarrassment he felt. He knew food wouldn't be sufficient to stop his reaction, but it was something to do, and he was hungry. For a moment, he wished Rich was closer to help, but knew he would've probably turned him down for offering the same courtesy Cory had, for more complicated reasons.

"That was next,” Cory told him. “Rich, did you find the package Nick was trying to deliver to me?"

"Yes. I'll bring it with me when we're done here," Rich promised. "Nick, the next round’s on me."

Nick grinned, hearing the reassurance of normality in Rich’s tone. "Of course. Get some rest; you sound tired."

"You look tired, but it’s a hell of sight better than two days ago," Rich shot back, and Nick realized that Cory was videoconferencing the call.

"We were just about to turn in," Matthew interjected. "Corwin, as we agreed. No practical jokes."

"Of course," Cory sounded insulted. "I _like_ him."

Rich chuckled, sounding highly amused. "Wow, I didn’t think anyone could make you look that ruffled, Cory. Then again, if anyone can do it, it would be the guy who taught you." He laughed again. "This is going to be interesting. I'll see you both in a few days. Nick, good to see you're up."

"Thanks."

With a minimum of goodbyes, the call was disconnected.

"If you meant to reassure me that I'm where I’m supposed to be," Nick said cautiously, "congratulations, you did a fine job." Rich’s mention that Matthew had been Cory’s teacher would explain how a bank robber knew to call an FBI agent, and could get said agent to react, without involving more police. More reassured now that he'd figured that part out, Nick relaxed further.

"I've never enjoyed waking up in strange places, with an immortal I barely know around," Cory noted neutrally. “I was out of the country when Matthew was training you, otherwise we would’ve met sooner. Rich offered to stay, but he can't cook.”

Nick chuckled wryly. "I know. He'd rather be doing something else — anything else, really."

Cory laughed. "Definitely. Do you need a hand to the bathroom?"

"Yeah, that would great," Nick agreed.

To his surprise, Cory counted steps off as he helped Nick to the bathroom. "You're about an inch taller than me," Cory noted, "but you have a shorter stride. Toilet paper's to your right as you're sitting on front of the toilet; sink's that way as well. Soap is to the left of the tap, and it's a single lever to turn on the faucet. Towel's on the bar on the wall in front of the toilet. Don't go too far left; you'll trip over the bathtub. I wouldn't recommend taking a shower until you're a little steadier, maybe after you've eaten."

"You sound like the voice of experience."

"I once used a little too much dynamite to blow a safe," Cory admitted matter-of-factly. "Matthew managed to arrest me because I was standing there, blinded and stunned."

Shaking his head at that image, Nick attended to his business in the bathroom before emerging. As he hadn't heard or felt Cory leave, he was fairly sure the other immortal had waited for him. "How'd you meet Matthew the first time?"

A laugh met his question. "I'll wait until you can see before I answer that question," Cory dodged. "You might actually believe me then." Briskly, Cory said, "I have some sweatpants if you want to be less naked, and you might be able to fit into my shoes. We can make a run to Target if you're feeling up to shopping for clothes, but that'll have to wait until morning; they’ve already closed for the evening. There's food here if you'd rather stay in."

"Food here would be great. Um. My sword?"

"Hand and a half sword, with a wolf's head in the brace?" At Nick's nod, Cory continued, "It's downstairs. I didn't want you waking up, fumbling around, and accidentally cutting yourself. We found your leather jacket and wallet too, but the rest of your clothes are history."

"Figured they would be. I wouldn't mind getting something else to wear, but sweatpants would be great for now. That's the worst Quickening I've ever had."

Cory made a sympathetic noise. "Stay right there and I'll grab the sweatpants for you." Half to himself, Cory muttered, "Seems a damn shame to cover you up."

Nick fought a smile as he listened to Cory retreat from the bedroom. Somehow, that comment went a long way to restoring Nick's confidence that he'd healed normally, save for his sight.

A few minutes later, Cory returned and assisted him into the sweatpants. Cory then led him downstairs, positioning him at a breakfast bar. "We have…" he pulled open a refrigerator door "… the ever-popular meat, cheese, apples, and bread option, or the ingredients for pasta, or pork chops."

"Something easy to eat would be fine," Nick said. "I think I see shapes now."

"No," Cory corrected easily, "you want me to think you can, but your eyes aren't tracking properly yet."

Nick sighed, frustrated. "I hate being dependent on other people." He paused. “What happens if I never regain my sight?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that just yet.”

"I’m not a guy who likes living without a plan."

Cory sighed. "How long have you been immortal?”

"Thirteen years.”

"You play the Game much?"

Nick paused before answering. He wasn’t sure where Cory was going with this line of questioning. "Some. There are those of us who think that a man who lives above and runs a pub on Holy Ground is stupid enough to never train and never carry a sword.”

"Yeah, you’ll be fine, then."

Incredulous, Nick looked in the direction of Cory’s voice. "And you know this how?"

“I did say I used too much dynamite once, didn't I?" Cory asked. "I know it takes a few days to regain sight when you've injured it, and that it can be done. Besides, for someone who's only been immortal thirteen years, you're a lot stronger than you look."

"What do you mean?"

"If you were newer, less experienced, you’d have been overwhelmed. The idiot who killed himself gambled that you were so inexperienced that you didn’t know how to control a Quickening. Your hands are jittery right now, which is normal for you. If Matthew ever thought that would be a problem for you, he would've worked on it with you until he was sure it wasn't."

Nick was silent as he considered what Cory had said. "You don’t sound like you were afraid I would be overwhelmed.”

Cory laughed. “After I pulled out the knife I stuck in you, you were muttering, but you never woke up. What’s the story behind those Russian marriage vows?”

Nick froze, then chuckled ruefully. “Case I had years before I met Amanda — my first undercover,” he explained. “I had to pretend to be a Russian mobster, and the only way I could not get lost was to recite my wedding vows.” He paused, remembering Lauren with sadness. "Too bad my marriage broke up not long after we resolved that case."

“So you said,” Cory noted. Nick heard the refrigerator door shut, and a chopping board was dropped onto a stone surface.

It took Nick a moment to realize he’d apparently carried on a conversation while unconscious. “No wonder you weren’t worried about me."

"Freaked Rich out. He said he knew you were capable of the unexpected, but he didn't know that was one of them." Cory sounded amused. "I have to thank you, by the way — I didn't know Rich spoke Russian until then. He's been holding out on me."

"He's good at picking up languages," Nick offered, grinning. Cory sounded like he'd expected Rich to confide in him. "But he'll tell you he can't say anything if it's something other than French or English."

Cory smothered a laugh. "Damn him; that means that he was listening to me negotiate, the little —" Cory stopped himself and changed the subject. "Never mind; I'll get him back for that. How long have you known each other?"

"Oh, about seven years now," Nick admitted. "He walked into the bar one afternoon looking like he'd been riding for years and needed a hug, a drink, and a shower in that order. I'd just fired a bartender for skimming cash and was going to be shorthanded. Rich offered to fill in. He said you met because of Amanda?"

"Everything's her fault," Cory agreed cheerfully, and Nick laughed; he'd already heard Rich's version of the story. "Apples at twelve o'clock, brie at three and four, bread at six, cheddar at nine, and ham everywhere else. If you want mustard or mayonnaise, speak up."

"No, this is fine," Nick said. "Coffee?"

"Not until you've stopped trembling and can see. You need sleep more than you need caffeine. Matthew also suggested that I make sure you don't get any coffee so that you can recover faster."

Nick sighed, ceding the rightness of those statements. He sat there a moment, clearly orienting himself, then began to eat.

As Cory had expected, the short foray out of bed had exhausted Nick, and it wasn't long before he was fighting to stay awake.

* * *

"No, Cory, I am not going to get stuck in nowhere, Montana," Rich was arguing as Nick made his way to the living room. He knew how many steps it took, but the slightly annoyed tone in Rich's voice made Nick pause.

"Problem?"

"Cory is looking at a printed map; I'm looking at Google," Rich told him. "The road he wants me to take doesn't exist where he thinks it does."

"Well, it used to," Cory said, annoyed.

"You headed out?" Nick asked as he cautiously felt his way to the side chair, which was closer to the hallway.

"Yeah, sorry, Nick, but I need to be in Seacouver by Labor Day, and it's August 23 already. Oh, good, you found the clothes I put on the bed."

"Are these the new ones we got yesterday?" There was an amused note in Rich's voice that Nick didn't trust, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the T-shirt he was wearing didn't say what Cory had told him it said. Figuring it out could wait until after he found out Rich's reasons for leaving town, Nick pushed the matter aside.

"Yeah," Rich agreed. "And there's a chair an arm's length to your right."

"Looking pretty good there, Nick," Cory complimented him. "The laundry didn't wake you?"

Nick shook his head. "No, I don't remember really hearing it. Rich, you're not flying?"

"I don't want to leave my bike here. The last time I did that, Cory forgot to return it to me in one piece."

"Hey, I paid to have it put back together," Cory said, sounding aggrieved. "All because you didn't trust me to put it back together right. I've been fixing motorcycles before you were born, boyo."

Nick chuckled. He knew better than to ask what happened. "What's in Seacouver?" he asked instead as he found and then eased himself into the chair Rich had mentioned. "Besides being where you grew up?"

"New martial arts dojo," Rich replied. "I promised Mac I'd teach classes this winter and help him run it."

"I thought you were done with that," Cory noted, sounding shocked.

Nick thought, though he couldn’t be sure, that he saw the faint outline of Rich, shrugging.

"I need a regular job, Cory, at least for appearances."

“That’s not a good enough reason to risk your life. Try again, Rich.” Cory’s voice was hard. “Matthew’s come gunning for me but he’s never wanted to take my head. Not even when it would’ve been easier.”

Rich sighed. “I just can’t keep avoiding Mac. It feels like I’m running away. And Mac's apologized for overreacting like he did, and for everything else he’s done to hurt me."

"Overreacting?" Nick snorted. "He took offense that I hired you to work in my bar. What's wrong with being a bartender? You're good at it."

"He's wanted me to reach higher than that for years, and you know it, Nick. You talked to him."

Nick sighed. "He wants you to be more than a thief or a bartender, Rich, someone respectable. And he didn't know that I run Sanctuary now, not Amanda. "

Cory chuckled. "Oh, was that it? Mackie boy used to have such a fine sense of humor, too."

"I know what Mac wants," Rich admitted. "And working for Nick was just the start of Mac's objections. He didn't like that I was racing motorcycles again, either — not pro, just amateur stuff. I'm hoping that if I work for him through the winter, then he'll get off my case about what I'm doing next.”

Cory made a disbelieving sound. "He didn't forgive me for seventy years, Richie. Man can hold a grudge — and you've spent the last several years deliberately avoiding him. What makes you think he's changed?"

"He said he wants to start over, let bygones be bygones. Look, I haven't told him about our partnership, Cory, and I don't plan to, either. Mac thinks I've been goofing off and just riding around North America."

"Well, you have," Cory pointed out reasonably. "You've just had company on a few of those trips. But you're all right with him?"

Rich sighed impatiently. "Oh, I'm sure I'll get annoyed with his attitude, same as he will mine. If he starts taking heads again and acting strange, I'm going to get the hell out of there."

Cory snorted. “Look, Rich, Mackie boy hits even three heads in twelve months, get the hell out of there, okay?”

“I will, I swear,” Rich said emphatically.

"Is this the trip you've been putting off taking?" Nick asked, leaning forward. If he just concentrated hard enough, maybe that shape would resolve itself.

"Yeah. I did what you suggested, Nick, and talked to Mac about expectations. That's what led to the job offer and us talking again. I just needed time to think about it." He paused. "I know you're worried, Cory, but I have to do this. Nick knows I've been struggling with whether I should, but I'm doing what's right for me. I've managed to put Mac off long enough, and from what I hear, he really does need the help in the dojo." Rich paused again. "Nick? What in the world are you trying to do?"

"Trying to see." Nick narrowed his eyes and tried for focus. Was that light he saw or just wishful thinking?

"Quit that, Nick; you'll give yourself a headache," Cory chided.

Nick winced. "Too late for that." He breathed deep, enjoying the fact that he could. "You've gone across the US before? I know you've ridden across Europe."

"Yeah. I really don't want to deal with the northern states once I get past Illinois. I hate Montana and its lack of gas pretty much anywhere I'd need to fill up." Rich paused. "Worried about being alone with Cory? I can probably rearrange my packs and fit you on my bike, if you wanted a ride to Torago; it's not that far off my route to head to northern Illinois. I know you'll get your vision back soon; I'm not worried about that."

"If you were, you wouldn't be leaving." For a moment, the memory of how Rich had helped him recover from a few challenges flashed through Nick's mind, and he smiled. "I know how you ride, though, so no thanks. I remember the speeding ticket you almost got in Paris; the cop didn't believe anyone so fully loaded could go that fast."

"It's Cory's fault," Rich said immediately. "He made me think I had to, once."

"Oh, you didn't crash this time?" Cory sounded intrigued.

"This time?" Nick asked. "That makes it sound like you have a habit of encouraging people to pull crazy stunts, Cory."

"Me? I just like to have a little fun."

"At other people's expense," Rich noted dryly. "Crazy stunts, dares that no mortal would pull because they'd be afraid to die, all kinds of practical jokes… You quit doing that why again?"

Cory didn't reply immediately. "Had one backfire badly," he said softly. "I thought everyone knew I liked practical jokes. I never play them on people who can't heal."

"I didn't," Nick pointed out. "Should I ask for details?"

"No," Cory said, sounding like he appreciated Nick's discretion. "And I've been the perfect gentleman, Rich."

Rich laughed. "You're just waiting until Nick can see again. Nick, if he gets to be too much, call me."

"I'll keep that in mind," Nick noted dryly, "but I'm perfectly capable of defending myself." Realizing what he'd just said, Nick hastily amended, "Most of the time."

"What is it with you and Matthew thinking I'm going to do something Nick will regret?" Cory asked, offended.

Rich just laughed. "I love you like a big brother, Cory, but I also know you like one, even if I've only been working with you for the last three years. Don't put him on that Rockcreek job; he won't be able to get back to Paris."

"I was saving that one for you, boyo. Blaze of glory and all that for killing off that identity. Or are you not doing that now?"

"Too risky with the video surveillance. Or did you forget — you forgot about the possibility of cameras. Cory! How many times do I have to explain facial recognition software?"

"Wasn't the cameras," Cory muttered. "I knew about those, but I thought the software wasn't perfected yet."

"You have to assume they're at least 20% ahead of where they admit to being, and Matthew probably has access to the really good stuff," Nick remarked. "I know I had access to some databases when I was a cop that made me nervous about my privacy. The security firm I sometimes work for has similar ones."

"No wonder Rich wanted me to meet you," Cory told Nick. "He said you had a line on some security work if I wanted it. Whatever happened to being a damned good bank robber?"

Nick chuckled. "Same thing I told Amanda about being a damned good art thief; it's a lot harder to pull off now. But if you want a crash course in the latest security measures, I can help. Or if you want something legal, Bert's always looking for someone to test security systems for some of his clients, but I'll warn you they usually involve some diplomat or high-ranking politician."

Rich groaned. "I’m going to pretend I didn't hear you suggest that, Nick."

"That explains why the blueprints you got me have a senator's office in them," Cory said. "Thank you for those, by the way; I couldn’t figure out why the security looked wrong."

"What do you mean, wrong?" Nick asked.

"Wrong for a supposed garden-variety office building with a bank in one corner."

"Does that mean you're not going to do that?" Rich asked, curious.

"Not until after the election," Cory said easily. "Too much attention on that building right now, and you're not going to be around to help."

"Why do I feel like I just helped prevent you from becoming front page news?" Nick wondered.

Rich laughed. "Because you did. Nick, I'm going to be headed out in the morning. As far as what happens next with you two, if Matthew asks, I know nothing."

Nick grinned, appreciating Rich's concern. He was amused at the notion that Rich — younger chronologically but more experienced as an immortal — felt protective of him, even while recognizing that Nick was capable of handling things himself. "I'll remember that," he promised. "Where is Matthew anyway?"

"In court for an old case of his, but he promised he'd be here tonight," Rich said. "I told him you'd have a lot of questions."

"Why?" Cory wanted to know.

Nick laughed ruefully. "Insatiable curiosity. It's part of why I became a cop; I wanted to know everything."

"Ah. I think I like you better as a pub owner," Cory noted, his voice conveying his grin.

"So do I," Rich said gratefully, and Nick laughed.

"Good thing I enjoy doing that, or else you'd both be in trouble. Well, to be precise, I was enjoying it; now I'm taking a few months off and doing something else. How late is it? I swear I've been doing nothing but sleeping. Someone won't give me coffee."

"A little after two in the afternoon," Cory offered as Rich barely smothered a chuckle at Nick's complaint. "Hungry?"

Nick shook his head. "Not yet." He paused. "Can I ask you guys a favor? Help me figure out how good my vision is? I keep thinking I see shapes and grays, but I can't tell if that's just wishful thinking or not?"

Matthew showed up just as they were arguing percentages of grays and what constituted full spatial recognition. Since it had somehow devolved into a game of tag, he was hard-pressed not to burst out laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

After dinner, Nick lingered in the dining room, listening to Matthew washing dishes. The kitchen and dining area were set up as an open room defined largely by the breakfast bar and a half-wall. Nick hadn't felt quite like moving to the bar; he'd already smacked himself on the edge of the table once tonight and didn’t feel like repeating the experience. Besides that, they'd finally allowed him to have a mug of coffee. He wanted to savor it, even if it was decaf.

Cory and Rich had adjourned to the living room and were watching some show Nick didn't recognize, but from the sounds of it, it involved a pawn shop in Vegas. The TV volume wasn't loud, but the commentary from Cory and Rich about the pricing and the goods was quite informative. Any other day, Nick would have happily enjoyed the discussion, but he had other matters on his mind.

"Now that I'm mostly recovered," Nick began, "I'd like to know what you found from digging through Kyree's things."

Matthew turned off the water he'd been using to rinse and set the pot in the dish drainer. "Are you having nightmares, or just worried that Rich and I saw too much?"

Nick considered the question as he took a sip of coffee, wincing a little at the bitter taste. "Both," he said finally. "I'm surprised you took Rich and not Cory with you."

"Cory had the mass and strength to help you if you fell," Matthew said simply. "Or would you have rather had Rich here instead?"

"I thought that was maybe why," Nick said. "The last time Rich tried to help me stand up, I knocked him over."

"He mentioned that," Matthew agreed. "But that's only a minor worry of yours, and not the reason you're asking questions. What are you dreaming of?"

"Not so much nightmares as images I’m not quite sure I know how to file away."

"You were a major crimes detective," Matthew reminded him, pulling out a chair to sit next to him. "You've investigated murderers before. How is this different?"

"Not…" Nick chose his words carefully. "Not like Kyree." Deliberately, Nick made himself relax, aware that his teacher understood — better than anyone Nick had ever met — just how seeing a crime scene etched itself into memory. "It's worse than me seeing where the crime happened, the photographs of the scene, because the crime _was_ me. I'm… not the first he's taken like that. You found the bodies that he hid?"

"They were skeletal remains, but yes," Matthew agreed neutrally. "You needn't worry about them anymore."

"I… don't," Nick said. "I've never had a Quickening want to hold on like that, like he wanted to win from the inside, and the things he wanted to do…." Nick shuddered. "I felt like I had a front-row seat to a psychotic killer who wanted my body to keep on doing everything he'd been doing for centuries. I was screaming everything you ever taught me about how to hold on to who I am. That was why you kept hounding me about my focus, wasn't it? To prepare me in case something like this happened?"

"Part of the reason, yes," Matthew agreed.

Nick closed his eyes briefly. "I never thought I'd need those lessons so much. Or that the stuff you said about faith and magic would matter. That prayer you did helped, but Kyree wanted to keep talking, even after. I flashed back to my first undercover and kept repeating my wedding vows until he finally decided to surrender. Something about repeating 'In the presence of God and our friends, I promise to guide and protect you as Christ does his church, to be a loving and faithful husband, as long as we both shall live' drove Kyree crazy."

"Is he still talking to you?"

"No," Nick said, startled. "He could've done that instead of giving up?"

"It can happen," Matthew said. "I take he's not?"

Nick heaved a relieved sigh. "No. Thank God no. He made a mistake with me — you got there too soon; I wasn't the young, inexperienced immortal he thought I was; and he was pissed that after all these years of getting away with it, a cop finally got him. That last part… he thought you'd gotten him. You almost did, seventy years ago."

"So I discovered when we went through his storage unit and found his journals," Matthew agreed. "You were the last of his victims, Nick. He is well and truly dead. The others can now be at peace."

"But…" Nick heard someone pull up a chair on the other side of him and felt an arm drape around his shoulders. From the feel of it, he recognized it was Rich. For a moment, Nick let himself lean into the familiar comfort before pulling back and sitting upright. "I keep thinking I should know how to deal with this, but I'm frankly horrified. I'm not… I don't want… it's like the first time I ever saw a crime scene and I thought I knew what I was getting into. I know things I shouldn't, Matthew, about people I've never met, and I see them dying horribly."

He heard a chair scrape back, felt Rich take the now-cold mug of coffee from his hands as he stood.

"The canister of dragonwell?" Rich asked.

"Left side cabinet, above the coffeemaker," was Cory's calm reply. "Unless you moved it again."

Rich snorted. "Not after last time."

The sound of water pouring followed, then Matthew said, "Mug of tea in front of you, Nick. Give it a few minutes to steep. And you wouldn't expect a homicide rookie to be coping. Why are you expecting it of yourself?"

Nick sighed and said nothing for a minute. "Because I think I should be. Shouldn't what you taught me count for something? I've taken heads, just… not like this." He groped for the mug of tea, needing the warmth.

"Oh, it counts," Matthew assured him. "We'd be having an entirely different conversation if it didn't. You've always been harder on yourself than most."

Nick sipped his drink, letting the taste of the smoky, buttery, nutty-flavored green tea fill his senses. He didn't know what to say, but he had a feeling Matthew was going to say more.

"What would you be doing if it had been me?" Rich asked.

That brought Nick's head up. "God, Rich, I'd never wish that on you."

"Still," Matthew pressed, "he brings up a good point. From what we saw, it's safe to assume Kyree was going for a younger, healthier body. That could've easily been Rich."

"I… don't know," Nick admitted. "Probably called you, Matthew, because I…" Nick shuddered. "I don't know how the hell you could have seen me like that, Rich, or gone through that bastard's things afterwards."

"I wasn't alone," Rich said simply. "That's one of the reasons I feel comfortable heading to Seacouver tomorrow. I know you're in good hands here. Cory and Matthew helped me a few years ago when I was getting stalked by a psycho bent on avenging his teacher. But, Nick, you gotta stop thinking you're some kind of superhero. What that bastard Kyree did to you was evil, sick, and twisted."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, and tried not to throw up.

"Drink some more of that," Matthew urged.

Rich waited until Nick had finished his tea before continuing, "I'm happy that you're whole and mostly recovered, and that's what's helping me deal with what I've seen. The storage units mostly had the things someone accumulates over a life, with a few nasty surprises like the skeletons Matthew mentioned. But, Nick, you gotta stop letting your imagination run wild; I've told you before, you're not responsible for my nightmares." Rich laughed quietly. "Trust me: if I could figure out who gave me nightmares about not putting the orange juice in the right container, I'd happily blame them. But this isn't about me, either."

"No, it's not," Matthew said briskly. He said nothing a moment before asking, "Did writing case reports ever fully put away the memories of the crimes?"

Nick barked out a humorless laugh. "No. But it was…" He stopped. "Closure, of sorts." He breathed out. "I need to write this out."

"If you think it's needed," Matthew agreed. "But you don't have to, Nick. I'm more concerned that you'll let the images burn themselves into your memory rather than accept you have them, that they are things you cannot change."

Nick closed his eyes briefly. "Then tell me how the hell I can do this, because I'm lost."

He heard his cup being refilled. "Drink some more tea and listen carefully," Matthew began. He spoke of looking at images and letting the edges blur, of acceptance, of it being okay to feel powerless. He guided Nick through what he'd seen and experienced, with occasional input from both Rich and Cory. The exercise felt like someone was suturing a wound closed, and it wore Nick out.

Somehow in the course of that conversation, Nick wound up on the couch, sandwiched between Cory and Rich. His last memory of that night was of leaning against Cory and feeling too comfortable to move.

* * *

"If Nick asked you to stay, would you?" Cory asked quietly as he watched Rich pack later that same evening. Matthew had helped Cory relocate a sleeping Nick upstairs before departing to his own place, as the court case that had kept Matthew away was scheduled to finish the following day.

Rich paused in his careful roll of a T-shirt before tucking it into the one of the waterproof duffel bags that sat on the futon he'd been using. "Cory, if he's who you want, I'm not gonna stand in your way. All I'm asking is that you be careful. He hasn't been involved with too many guys and he's terrified of falling in love with one of us. Amanda hurt him badly."

"No chance I could have some help?" Cory asked with a leer.

Rich laughed as he reached for another T-shirt from the pile of clean laundry and quickly rolled it. The bag was already half full of clothing. "I told you before, Cory, no. You and me, zero spark. Remember?"

Cory pouted for form's sake, but then broke into a grin. "Yeah. Damnable thing." He shook his head, remembering the kiss he'd planted on Rich that had resulted in them laughing like loons rather than the seduction he'd planned. "But with Nick in the middle…"

Shaking his head, Rich said, "Sorry, Cory, but I'm not going there with you, ever, regardless."

"Ever's a long time, boyo."

Rich just looked at him.

With a sigh, Cory accepted the refusal. He hadn't really expected anything less; most days, he tended to think of Rich as a little brother. He knew, too, that Rich had decided that keeping his love life as uncomplicated as possible was healthier. "You're no fun."

Laughing again, Rich said, "So you've told me, many times, usually when I'm pointing out the flaws in one of your plans. What is it with you and never checking to see what else might be going on?" Ignoring Cory's look of exasperation, Rich rolled a pair of jeans into the duffel before zipping it up partway. "I know what you're trying to ask. I care a lot about Nick, but I'm not in love with him. When we got involved, he wanted something without too many strings, same thing I wanted, but he has a hard time letting go of people he cares about. Nick won't do anything with you if I’m here."

That made Cory pause. "He cares about what you think."

"I'm not with someone else right now and he's a deeply honorable man. Amanda misjudged just how deep; she thought he'd be just happy that she'd given him the gift of immortality. She forgot the part where she'd promised him honesty while keeping the biggest secret of his life."

Cory groaned. "That sounds so very much like her. You remember the day we met?" At Rich's rueful nod, Cory went on, "She couldn't tell me up front that she was with Mac and that you were a concerned friend. She let me believe she just happened to walk into that pawn shop."

"I remember. That was not fun. I thought for sure you'd kidnapped her, but you can't kidnap the willing." Rich looked at Cory. "Nick's more direct than she will ever be. I know you like pretending you're stuck in the 1920s, but in the last few days, you've been acting more like the modern guy I've gotten to know the last few years — the guy who isn't a prank-playing asshole. Nick doesn't trust easy, and he trusts you now. That means a lot with him."

Sobering, Cory returned to their earlier topic. "I won't do anything Nick doesn't want."

Rich nodded, taking the promise for what it was. "If Nick is up when I leave tomorrow, I'll say goodbye to him then, but I want to be on the road before rush hour. If he's not up then, tell him I'll be checking in along the way."

"Will do. Sleep well."

* * *

The first indication Cory had that Nick had fully regained his vision was at breakfast three days later.

"I forgot how you look," Nick said, stopping short of the breakfast bar. Cory was whisking eggs, intent on making omelets, and the remark, shaded as it was with a bit of wonder, make him pause.

"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" Cory asked cautiously.

Nick laughed, sounding amused at himself. "Oh, trust me, it's a good thing," he said. "Anything I can do to help?"

Cory shook his head. "No. No offense, but this is _my_ kitchen." He poured the egg mixture into the heated pan. "You're welcome to help yourself to coffee, of course." He gestured to the coffeemaker on the counter to his right.

Nick grinned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Without asking, he topped off Cory's, clearly remembering that Cory always wanted a refill as he cooked. The ex-cop's attention to detail impressed Cory, and he made mental note that Nick hadn't missed much.

"So how long have you known Matthew?"

Cory checked the edges of the omelet. "Seven centuries and change," Cory said. "I was twenty-nine when I was hung for poaching deer in the king's forest. Matthew was the sheriff; he was kind enough to dig me up and teach me. It wasn't until later that I found out that he hadn't yet hit his first century when he taught me." For a moment, Cory remembered. "He jokes sometimes that I'm the son he never intended to have." The omelet was ready for filling, and Cory took the already-prepped pieces of ham, cheddar, and chives and dropped them into the pan before flipping over the egg half.

"Poaching deer?" Nick repeated, sounding slightly disbelieving. Then he laughed. "You were Robin Hood?"

Cory slid the omelet onto a plate, cut it in half, then slid one half onto a second plate. Setting the plates down, he turned off the stove before turning to face Nick. "The one and only," Cory said with a grin and a flourish. "Matthew was Sheriff of Nottingham."

"And the rest of your merry band?"

"Long dead," Cory said softly. "I was the last of them, and I knew my days were numbered. Even then, Matthew cast a long shadow."

"Sorry," Nick said sincerely. "I was the detective chasing the infamous Amanda; I was so close to catching her and arresting her for good. My partner died protecting her."

Cory froze in the act of passing a plate and a fork over to Nick. "I knew there was something Amanda left out of the story," he said ruefully. "All she told me was that she met you and couldn't get you to stay out immortal business, and then she realized you'd be one of us."

"Can you always tell if someone's going to be one of us? I've heard Matthew's answer; I'd like to hear if you say anything different."

"Probably not, considering he's the one who told me, and I haven't heard anything different since." Cory shook his head and finished passing over the plate of food. "The older you are, the better you get at it," he said. "Especially if you take a lot of heads. Rich is better at it than I was at his age, but he was motivated. As I'm sure you know, he thought he had something to prove."

"And you don't?"

"Life's too short to spend it fighting," Cory opined. "Not when there's a whole world full of people who need help or who could use a little fun or both."

Nick chuckled, then sobered. "But you've fought."

"I like life," Cory said emphatically, then grinned. "But I don't worry too much about the Game. It's found me a few times, but I'm still here." He leaned over and slid his own plate and fork to the seat next to Nick, then picked up his coffee before coming around to sit down. "So, now that you have your sight back, what you do want to do now?"

"I'm not expected back in Paris for a few months; I need to satisfy my visa requirements for residency. I planned on dropping your knives and the blueprints to that building, spend a few days playing tourist around DC, then head over to my place in Torago so I can work on the bike I've been rebuilding since, well, forever. Guess I'm gonna have to call the airline to see if they'll refund my tickets since I never made that flight out." Nick studied the thief a moment. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I was going to use Rich to pull off a heist I had planned," Cory admitted freely. "But that one can wait, and you heard about the plan he nixed." The bank robber waved a hand carelessly. "Rich had some ideas for where my next distribution should go, but I'd love a second opinion. Beyond that —" Cory shrugged. "I'm behind on popular culture, according to Rich. Want to help me catch up? If you're not in a rush to get home, there's no reason you can't still play tourist."

Surprised, Nick reevaluated the older immortal, who looked as though he wanted nothing more than to have a good time. "You're not suggesting this because you think I still need to recover, are you?"

Cory laughed. "No. I want to see that new superhero movie everyone's been talking about, and it's much better to see it with someone else." He grinned. "Or so I hear."

Nick had a feeling he was going to regret this outing later. Still, he wanted to get out of the house. "I wouldn't mind doing some clothes shopping, either, now that I don't have to rely on you or Rich to tell me what the hell I'm buying, and especially if I'm going to stay a few more days. Nothing against your cooking, but I'd love to go eat in a restaurant for a late lunch or early dinner. Didn't Matthew say he'd be free this afternoon?"

Cory grinned, as if he knew the reason why Nick wanted a chaperone. "So he did." Picking up a phone, Cory paused before dialing Matthew's number. "I promise I'll be good," he told Nick, looking directly at him.

Nick fought the urge to swallow. So much heat was promised in that tone and that look. Suddenly Nick wondered if he shouldn't have left when Rich did. He knew, though, that would've been admitting that he couldn't handle his interest in Cory. Unconsciously straightening his shoulders, Nick told himself that he'd handled Amanda's flirting; certainly someone younger should be easy by comparison.  



	4. Chapter 4

Nick was gratified to see that beyond that opening salvo, Cory backed off on his flirting. He seemed to be waiting to see if Nick was ready for more. Nick wasn't sure if he was, but he was intrigued. It was good to be able to see again, to fit some of the pieces he'd been mulling over in the days since his rescue. Cory was interesting: on the surface, easygoing and fun-loving, but Nick had seen his intensity and been the recipient of his focus the last few days; he knew not to mistake the surface for the man beneath. Yet by the time they'd dumped Nick's purchases in the back of Cory's SUV, Nick felt off-balance, and he was vividly aware that Cory hadn't backed off his flirting so as much as he'd opted to be a little more subtle with it.

He'd forgotten what it was like to have to argue color choices with someone, to watch them charm the clerks into giving discounts, to try on clothes with the assurance that a friend would be guarding the door, to have not just appreciation, but masculine appreciation at that. Rich had been easy — too easy Nick realized abruptly, probably because Rich had wanted the same thing as Nick had: just a little extra fun on top of an already solid friendship.

Nick wasn't sure what he wanted now. Cory was, even by his own admission, an unrepentant bank robber: the immortal Robin Hood. Could Nick risk himself that way? It was one thing to drop off plans and depart; that had been doing a favor for Bert, who had a proposal for testing a client's security. This… felt different.

Being blind for so long had forced Nick to rely heavily on what he heard, and Cory had made sure that Nick didn't feel alone. Rich's departure and Matthew's need to return to work had left Nick alone with Cory for long stretches. The wide-ranging conversations he'd had with Cory while unable to see had given him insight into a man who'd decided, centuries before, that life should be fun — and had figured out what his definition of fun was. Cory was well-read, could argue politics and the state of the world, but he was also perfectly happy to act as though he'd never taken life seriously. Nick had underestimated the man he'd met on Skype, buying into the cheerful, flirtatious, almost over-the-top charm and not seeing the keenly intelligent man beneath, who'd bided his time until Nick could see him before launching his campaign to seduce Nick. That spoke of an understanding of Nick as a person.

It was something of a relief to escape into the explosions and banter of an action-adventure flick. By the time they adjourned to a nearby restaurant for dinner, Nick had made up his mind. He wasn't going to pursue… whatever Cory wanted until he'd had time to think about it some more. Right now felt a little too much like gratitude talking, and needing to reconnect with a warm body to feel more alive. If there was one thing Nick had learned, it was that friendships with other immortals were fraught with complications, and Nick didn’t want to make the same mistakes twice.

So he let Cory talk him into going on a walking tour of Old Town Alexandria, complete with amusing anecdotes that Nick was convinced were only half true. He spent a day in DC with Matthew, reassuring his teacher that yes, he was fully recovered, and no, he wasn't going to rush into anything foolish.

Cory dropped him off at the airport the following day. When Nick went to pull out his phone to turn it off in preparation for going through security, he found a sticky note tacked to the face that said simply, "Call me when you're ready."

Out of curiosity, Nick checked his contacts list. Cory's name wasn't listed, but Robin Hood was. The smile that gave him lasted all through the long security line.

* * *

"Yeah, I'm home," Nick said, tucking his phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he unlocked his front door. "What did you need, Rich?"

"A building inspector with a sense of humor, for starters," Rich said. "Whoever had this place for the last five years ran it into the ground and pissed off everybody. I've been on the phone all day trying to get permits to do the renovation. I mean, it's a great place — as good as the place Mac had when I was nineteen, but in a much better location with on-site parking and locker facilities that were built in the last decade — but there's mold in the walls, bugs everywhere, and…" Rich sighed, disgusted. "Mac wasn't kidding when he said he needed my help; this is just too much for one person."

Nick chuckled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him before dropping the duffel bag he'd used as luggage and his sword case onto the rolling butcher block island just to the right of the stairs. "Sorry, but the only inspectors I know are in Paris, and they didn't take jokes that well either. Did you have any problems finding an apartment?"

"Found a place with a great view of the bay; I move in this weekend. I'm in a motel right now. Don't ask me how much my rent is; I can't believe how much the prices have gone up in this city since I last lived here. Thank God Mac believes in paying well, and the leasing agent gave me a student special. How was the flight out? Anyone interesting?"

"I always forget just how much I hate commuter flights out of O'Hare." Nick started opening windows to air out the place. "And you're fishing, Rich. What do you want to know?"

Rich laughed. "One of these days I'm going to stop being obvious to you. Are you going to call Cory? Because he's likely to show up if you don't."

Nick paused after opening a living room window. "What are my chances he'll show up anyway?"

"Pretty good," Rich said freely. "He's a force of nature."

"And you think he'd be good for me?" Nick asked incredulously.

"You get too serious, Nick, and you'll be bored to tears within a week in that house. If nothing else: that idea you have of rebuilding that old Indian motorcycle? You need a guy who knows where to find parts to a bike that old. Hell, Cory could probably fix it himself. I wouldn't let him touch my bike because I wanted to be able to run again on regular gasoline, not moonshine."

"Moonshine? Do I want to know?"

"Ask him," Rich said, sounding amused. "Listen, I gotta go. Don't do anything I wouldn't." Without a further goodbye, the younger immortal disconnected the line.

Nick shook his head and went to see if Lucy, Amanda's German-born housekeeper in Torago, had done as he'd requested and restocked his fridge. To his relief, she had, which also meant there was a container of pork chops and spaetzle waiting for him to reheat. As he waited for the microwave to finish, he realized he hadn't called Bert, his erstwhile employer who'd gotten Matthew involved in his rescue, and felt a flash of guilt.

Hastily, Nick grabbed his phone and dialed, hoping he wasn't catching Bert in the wrong time zone.

"Meyers," Bert greeted.

"Sorry I haven't called. I just got home."

"Matthew explained you were hurt," Bert said compassionately. "He told me not to expect a call from you until you were recovered. You all right now?"

"Mostly," Nick said, lying a little to be on the safe side. He'd learned the hard way to be wary of Bert's assignments; invariably, there was a catch, some critical piece of information Bert had failed to mention, but the fees for taking on the assignments were sometimes worth the hassle and risk. "Listen, I know you wanted me to work for you while I'm here in Torago, but I'd like to take some time off."

"Did I say I needed you for something?" Bert sounded bewildered, but it was just a touch too smooth. "Don't worry about it, Nick. You just rest up and get better."

Nick chuckled wryly. "Thanks for understanding. I'll be in touch."

The microwave pinged and Nick went to eat his dinner. He cleaned up, then took his luggage upstairs before taking a shower and unpacking. He knew he was deliberately drawing out his next move, but he'd had enough time to think on the transit from Baltimore. Rich's words made him wonder if he wasn’t being too cautious; he’d made bigger decisions and risked his heart on far less information than he had now. Without stopping to think, he picked up his phone and dialed Cory’s number.

To his relief, Cory answered after the second ring. "Settled in?" Cory asked. "That was fast."

"I had help," Nick told him. "Of course this means tomorrow I have to visit Lucy, or she'll never forgive me, and listen to her fuss over me like she's my grandmother."

Cory chuckled. "Amanda lucked out when she met her; the woman is a treasure. Did you have any problems with airport security with your sword?"

"Other than being very nervous about having to have it in checked luggage?" Nick asked dryly. "No." He paused. "Did you want to talk over video?"

"Not right now," Cory told him. "I was just about to start grocery shopping, but I can talk; I’m in the parking lot."

"Ah. This probably isn't the best time to ask this, but — what, exactly, do you want from me? You're in Alexandria; I'm going to be here through the winter."

"Nothing you're not willing to give, Nick," Cory said seriously. "Alexandria's just one of the places I call home; it's not the only one. If you want help with that bike restoration project, I'd be happy to give it. But you're not ready for company and won't be for a few days."

Nick stared at his phone. "How the hell do you know that, Cory?"

"Because if it was me, I'd feel the same way," Cory said quietly.

Nick closed his eyes, hearing the compassion in Cory's voice. "Thanks. I'd better let you get on with your shopping." He paused. "And for the record, Cory? Thanks for taking care of me."

"You're welcome. Next time we're together, we'll have a lot more fun."

Nick had to swallow before speaking. "I'd like that."

A wry chuckle met his words. "Good to know," Cory said huskily. "I'll remember you said that."

Nick shivered at the timbre of Cory's voice. "Not fair, Cory."

An unrepentant laugh met his words. "Just making sure," came the reply. "Do call me when you've come to a decision." Without waiting for a reply, Cory ended the call.

"I don't want another immortal thief in my bed," Nick muttered to himself. "Why was that so hard to say? Oh yeah, he hung up before I could say that." With a shake of his head, Nick reminded himself that Cory had left the ball in his court. One thing was certain: Nick would be thinking about him, and that spelled trouble no matter how Nick sliced it. He ignored the voice that said he'd developed a weakness for immortal thieves who cared about their friends.

Deliberately, Nick threw himself into the business of resettling into his house and starting in on the restoration project, hoping it would keep his mind occupied. Yet he kept circling back to how easy it had been to trust Cory, even when he hadn't been flirting in earnest. Cory's conversations while Nick had been unable to see had been enlightening and revealing. Unlike Amanda, Cory wasn’t stealing just for his own gain. He cared a lot about the poor and downtrodden – but he was also ruthlessly practical, wanting to do research before he committed his time, skills, and monies to a cause. That alone spoke of a man who had integrity. The more Nick thought about trying to come with reasons for not pursuing Cory, the more he remembered the reasons he was fascinated.

Half an hour later, he was on the internet, trying to find the next flight back to Baltimore. When he realized that he'd wind up flying to Denver just to get a connecting flight, he stopped himself, took a deep breath, and called Cory. Whatever happened next, Nick told himself, had to start somewhere, and getting to know him while restoring a motorcycle had to be a better beginning than what they had so far.

* * *

Two days later, Rich's phone rang just as he walked out of the hardware store with Mac, a cart full of supplies for the dojo. Glancing at the screen and seeing who it was, Rich grinned in anticipation.

"Give me a minute, Mac. I’ll meet you at the car." Rich stepped aside.

“Precisely what inside knowledge _did_ you have, Rich?” Matthew was trying for stern and not entirely making it.

Rich chuckled. “Hey, you're the cop, not me; I thought for sure you'd have me and Nick figured out.”

“I don't think I'll touch that one. But what do you know about Corwin asking me to look after his house this winter?”

“Nothing,” Rich said instantly. He was abruptly grateful that unlike Cory, Matthew hadn’t yet embraced video calls. “But you still owe me. I told you it wouldn’t be three days before he asked you for that favor.”

Matthew laughed. “So you did, but are you entirely sure that’s a fair bet?”

“Uh-huh, that _was_ a fair bet. So what if I had inside information? You didn't ask.”

“You'd hardly have told me, Rich." Matthew added, "But I should have known better. So, I'll owe you dinner.”

“Right. At a nice, not too fancy, restaurant of my choosing, the next time you’re in Seacouver or I’m in Baltimore.”

“Not five star and not Waffle House, agreed." He added wryly, “I should have known Nick couldn't sit still so long, even before recent events. But I did think he’d want a little longer to think about it.” Matthew paused. “Among other things I possibly should have known… how are things with you and Duncan?”

Rich’s amusement died. “It’s going,” he allowed. “We’re at Home Depot right now.”

“Can I help, Rich?” Matthew added, “That includes coming out if need be.” He chuckled. “Or answering the phone at odd hours if you need to talk. Can't be odder than Carl and Cory's hours.”

“Nah, it’s fine so far,” Rich said. “But I’ll put your number on speed-dial.”

“Good to hear.” Matthew added, amused, “Do me a favor? Sometime, tell _me_ why you’re studying with Cory, would you? And meanwhile, work on your low blocks, hmm? And I’ll see you for dinner the next time we’re in the same place.”

Rich chuckled briefly. “You got a deal.”

Matthew chuckled. “I’ll talk to you later, then, Rich.”

“Later,” Rich agreed, and disconnected the line before stepping over to where Duncan had parked his SUV and was unloading the cart.

"What was that about?" Mac asked, seeing the amusement on Rich's face.

"Oh, nothing," Rich lied blithely. "Private joke." As he helped with the last of the purchases, Rich calculated how long he could safely wait before calling Cory or Nick for details. He hadn't seen the older man so fascinated by someone since the last time Amanda had been around. That Nick was equally interested let Rich hope that his friends would find some measure of happiness.

* * *

It was Friday, and Nick not only opened his door to trouble, he invited him inside. That was okay, because he’d expected Cory. Cory just grinned widely, dropped his bags to the floor, and asked, “So where’s this motorcycle you were talking about?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Since my betas both asked: I chose to use Patrick's Rune because it felt more appropriate, maybe because Madeleine L'Engle's use of it has stuck in my head for years now. Also, I can see Matthew and Cory spending time in Ireland. :-)


End file.
